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Chapter 4
“Get ready.”
The low voice echoed quietly through the silent hospital room.
I had been staring blankly out the window, but at the voice directed toward me, I turned my head and looked at the man standing before me.
The handsome man looked as though he had been painted into existence, yet there was not a trace of emotion on his face.
Seeing that I gave no response, the expressionless man continued calmly.
“Today is the last day of your sister’s funeral.”
“……”
“You should at least see her off on her final journey.”
Only then did I notice the black suit he was wearing.
Ah… so today was the final day of my funeral rites.
There were several familiar faces in the funeral hall I followed him into.
The deputy chief prosecutor who used to jokingly scold me to take it easy, the fellow prosecutors who had graduated with me from the Judicial Research and Training Institute, even attorneys I had crossed paths with a few times in court.
People who once shouted at each other across legal battles were now gathered around tables, sharing drinks while praying for my peace.
It all felt unreal.
Unable to even step into the funeral hall, I simply stood there blankly, staring at the scene.
“Han-gyeo…”
“Ah, CEO Joo. You came. And this person is…?”
As if rooted to the spot, I couldn’t move. My brother-in-law, who had been calling me softly, turned his head at someone calling for him.
At the familiar voice, I unconsciously looked over—then squeezed my eyes shut at the sight of the man before me.
My sister and I had no relatives.
Of course there was no one to stand as chief mourner.
And yet, standing in that empty place wearing mourning clothes was Minjun, my direct senior prosecutor—the very man I used to fight with every single day.
‘You’ll never die peacefully.’
His words resurfaced in my mind.
When everyone told me to stop, when I stubbornly insisted on eradicating criminals no matter the cost, Minjun had spat those words at me.
Right.
A sinner like me hadn’t died peacefully, just as he said.
“Hello. I’m Lee Minjun, Yeoreum’s direct senior prosecutor.”
“……”
“I heard a lot about you from Yeoreum.”
Even hearing his gentle voice, tears would not come.
I merely stared at him blankly, like a hollow doll with nothing left inside.
I could feel my brother-in-law glancing at me.
“I heard you were badly injured in the accident. Is it really alright for you to be out here…?”
Perhaps worried by my silence, he carefully asked the question.
It was funny.
The first time I ever heard concern from the senior prosecutor who had always been as fierce as a tiger… was after my death.
“Han Gyeoul 씨…?”
Minjun had never cried, no matter how tragic the story before him.
Yet he must have wept quite a bit over my death, because his usually sharp voice was now rough and heavy.
Looking at his swollen red eyes fixed on me, a laugh escaped me before I realized it.
Brother-in-law, who had been quietly observing me, quickly stepped in front of me protectively.
To the startled people around us, he apologized calmly in my place.
“She’s still having a hard time. We’ll just pay our respects and leave. Please understand.”
“A-Ah, no. I shouldn’t have stopped you.”
Holding my sister’s slender wrist, he strode toward the altar with long confident steps.
I trudged after him obediently and stopped before the memorial portrait.
I could feel the mourners staring at my haggard appearance with pity.
He let out a shallow sigh while looking at me, who was merely breathing like an empty shell.
His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but eventually he gave up and picked up a chrysanthemum from one side of the funeral hall.
My gaze followed his neat, efficient movements.
I watched him offer the flower to me, then slowly raised my head.
There, smiling brightly, was my own face.
Was this what it felt like to stand before a funeral altar and memorial portrait prepared to mourn your own death while you were still alive?
The picture looked like it had been taken on the day I graduated from the institute.
I stared blankly at the brightly smiling version of myself when sorrowful sobbing suddenly sounded nearby.
Turning my head, I saw Chief Kim and the administrative officer who had worked themselves to exhaustion helping me day and night.
“Hng… Hic… Prosecutor Han! Prosecutor Han!”
Why were they so devastated over the death of a prosecutor who only dumped work on them and never let them go home?
The man who constantly grumbled about not seeing his daughter for three days already.
The woman who jokingly blamed me for the reason she still couldn’t get married.
After looking at them, I turned away.
The chief mourner guarding the funeral hall, the people clinking glasses while praying for the deceased, the mourners endlessly shedding tears before the smiling memorial portrait—
Every single one of them belonged to Han Yeoreum.
Not a single mourner had come for my sister.
That fact was so absurd that I finally burst out laughing.
“Ha, hahaha! Hahahaha!”
At my sudden laughter, the grief-stricken funeral hall froze cold.
I couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of myself smiling in the photograph.
Yes.
Even that memorial portrait praying for the peace of the dead—
“Haha, ahahaha! Ahahahahaha!”
I could feel the pitiful gazes of the people watching me laugh with tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.
And those expressions only made me laugh harder.
There was not a single person there who knew of Han Gyeoul’s death.
Not one person grieving the short life she had lived.
Thirty-one years.
In that short life, my sister had only ever had me.
And even at the very end of her life… I was still all she had.
That truth was so unbearably ridiculous, so heartbreakingly pitiful, that I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Sir.”
Taewook gave no response to Sangwoo calling him.
His gaze remained fixed on Gyeoul’s face as she lay unconscious after collapsing at her younger sister Yeoreum’s funeral.
Lying motionless in the hospital bed, she was the sole survivor of that horrific accident.
“Secretary Lee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have they caught the culprit behind the accident?”
“No. The vehicle was apparently stolen and unregistered. They said the investigation may take some time.”
“I see.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even after the brief conversation ended, Taewook’s gaze remained fixed on the scratches covering Gyeoul’s face.
The wounds scattered across her pale flawless skin irritated him for some reason.
Watching Taewook’s unreadable expression, Sangwoo cautiously spoke.
“Sir… I realize this may be an inappropriate question…”
“……”
“Do you intend to continue your marriage with Han Gyeoul?”
Sangwoo glanced carefully at Taewook, who clearly heard the question yet said nothing.
Unable to read his thoughts at all, Sangwoo carefully added,
“After what happened at the funeral hall, people are even saying Han Gyeoul may have lost her mind from her sister’s death.”
Lost her mind.
Taewook recalled Gyeoul laughing like a madwoman at Yeoreum’s funeral.
As she stood before her sister’s memorial portrait laughing so hard she could barely breathe, everyone in the funeral hall wiped away tears.
Perhaps every single person there understood that she was crying more desperately than anyone.
Watching Gyeoul sleeping as though dead, Taewook finally spoke in a low voice.
“If reporters request interviews, block them.”
“……”
“As soon as the doctors say outpatient treatment is possible, discharge her immediately.”
“……”
“Contact Dr. Min for treatment. He’s discreet, so he’ll handle things appropriately.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.”
After bowing respectfully, Sangwoo quickly left the hospital room.
Taewook quietly watched the still-unconscious Gyeoul and let out a shallow sigh.
‘Yes, she’s my younger sister! Doesn’t her smile look just like the summer sun?’
A timid and introverted woman.
The only times Gyeoul ever smiled brightly were when she talked about her sister.
Her parents had died after their car skidded on a rainy road.
And now even her sister had died in an accident.
Meanwhile, Gyeoul alone survived that horrific crash.
How many people in the world could endure such a thing without losing their mind?
Taewook frowned at the loud noise drifting in from outside the open window.
“We heard Han Gyeoul regained consciousness! Is an interview possible?”
“Have they caught the culprit behind Han Yeoreum’s accident?”
“Han Gyeoul reportedly burst out laughing at the funeral. Why do you think she reacted that way?”
Rising from his seat beside the bed, Taewook walked to the window.
Looking down, he saw reporters crowded around the hospital entrance, firing questions nonstop at hospital staff.
With an irritated expression, Taewook slammed the open window shut.
As the cold early-winter wind stopped flowing into the room, a tiny voice broke the silence.
“…I want to go home.”
Turning back, he found his wife staring clearly at him for the first time since the accident.
“I want to go home now.”
“Please let me handle Yeoreum’s case.”
Minjun, sitting alone in the now-empty funeral hall after the service had ended, silently drank his liquor as though he hadn’t heard the voice behind him.
The junior prosecutor he would never again share drinks with smiled brightly from the memorial photograph.
That innocent smile made Minjun’s chest ache.
As he reached for the soju bottle to refill his empty cup, the man grabbed his arm.
“I want to do this, sunbae.”
Even after hearing the man’s repeated insistence, Minjun shook off his hand without replying.
Liquor poured into the empty paper cup with a soft splash.
Thunk.
Setting the bottle down heavily, Minjun emptied the full cup into his mouth and asked,
“Why?”
“……”
“Regrets?”
His bitter voice echoed through the quiet funeral hall.
Minjun briefly glanced toward the man sitting behind him before reaching for the bottle again.
“Forget it.”
“……”
“Anyone who lets personal feelings interfere with an investigation has no right to handle a case.”
The liquor once again filled the paper cup with a soft trickling sound.
Quietly watching him, Won stood and moved to sit across from him.
“Yes. I do regret it.”
“……”
“And I won’t make excuses. But if you asked who in our prosecution office could solve this case best… I’d confidently say it’s me.”
“Kim Won.”
“You said not to involve personal feelings in investigations.”
“……”
“But I believe those feelings are exactly what drive a case toward resolution.”
Even after Won spoke calmly, Minjun remained silent.
Won placed an SD card down in front of him.
Minjun’s gaze slowly shifted toward it.
“It’s the black box footage from Yeoreum’s accident.”
“……”
“Please give me just one chance.”
The older man’s wrinkled hand covered his eyes, but it couldn’t hide the tears slipping through his fingers.
Watching Minjun cry silently, Won struggled to suppress his own tears and raised his voice once more.
“I was a pathetic coward who hid my feelings because I feared my lingering attachment would only burden her if she were left alone.”
“……”
“At least on the final road she walks… so the feelings I never confessed won’t weigh down her steps.”
“……”
“Please… give me the chance to let go of those feelings.”
